


I Really Can't Stay

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Banter, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Snarky!Chris, crisscolfer, sick!darren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Advent Prompt #13: Darren (because he does way too much) gets sick with a killer cold. It's up to Chris to help him through it and make him better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Really Can't Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Day 13 of an Advent Fic challenge I'm doing daily through Christmas Eve. Much like Darren, I currently have the sinus infection from hell and I'm so grateful that I saved this prompt until now since sickfic is the one genre I could probably write in my sleep. Bless you, anonymous prompter.

“Um Dare, whatcha doing?” Chris asks as Darren trudges out of the bedroom and past Chris's study wearing a scarf and thick fleece coat offset by a look of miserable determination.

“Gotta go Christmas shopping,” Darren explains in a hoarse rasp. “Problem?”

“A whole lot of them, actually. Come here?” Chris requests. He waits while Darren complies, then points him towards the loveseat he recently added to the furniture in his office. It seemed like a small but necessary addition since Darren often insists on keeping Chris company while he writes. “Sit down.”

“Chris, I  _can't_. I've got a ton to do today. I need to get gifts for approximately five hundred people, but I've got to be back by 5:00 at the latest so I can get cleaned up for some charity auction thingie I'm supposed to make an appearance at tonight,” Darren rambles, somehow managing to sound out of breath by the end of the sentence.

“Sounds like a busy day. Too bad you're going to be doing exactly none of it,” Chris remarks coolly.

“Says who?” Darren asks, pouting.

“Me, obviously. So, sit your ass down,” Chris demands.

Darren flops onto the loveseat with all the dramatic sighing and petulant indignation of a recently grounded teenager. Chris stands and walks over to where Darren's sitting. Up close, he can see the dark circles ringing Darren's eyes, the unnaturally flushed cheeks, and the sweat already beading at his temples.

“What?” Darren grumbles. “I'm fibe.”

“You're... what now?” Chris inquires, corners of his mouth automatically quirking up as he tries not to laugh at Darren.

“Fibe,” Darren tries again, though his stuffed up nose continues to get in the way of proper pronunciation.

“Third time's a charm...”

“Fuck you,” Darren grits out. “I'm fiiiiinnnnnnne,” he finally manages, looking momentarily pleased with himself until he breaks into a coughing fit.

“You were saying?” Chris can't help but snark back, though there is a part of him that feels bad for Darren. He might feel even worse about his boyfriend getting sick so close to the holidays if it didn't happen every single year without fail and if it weren't completely avoidable if only Darren could stop being such a stubborn asshole occasionally.

“I hate you,” Darren whines.

“No, you hate being sick. You  _love_  me,” Chris corrects automatically.

“Are you so sure about that?”

“Yep, I'm positive. I think I know you pretty well by now,” Chris says, full of confidence.

“Since you're so smart, how did you know I was sick just from me walking by your office?” Darren wonders, his voice small and pathetic. “I thought I was doing a decent impression of a fully functional human being.”

“Yeah no, not so much,” Chris laughs, though not meanly. “Let's see, we'll start with today's weather...”

“The weather?”

“Yup, it's a balmy 78 degrees outside right now in LA and you were going to go shopping dressed in... well, that,” Chris replies, gesturing towards Darren's outfit. “Plus, you look like you’re wearing more blush than they put on Blaine for West Side Story currently.”

“I'm freezing,” Darren grumbles, a little defensively. “Maybe if you didn't always keep it so cold in your house...”

“The air conditioning isn't even on, dummy. You're just running a fever,” Chris shoots right back.

“Says who?”

“Me and probably every single thermometer in this house?”

Darren sighs and lets his head flop back against the arm of the loveseat, stretching his legs across Chris's lap. “Have I mentioned that I hate you yet?”

“Yep, but I wouldn't go for a three-peat if I were you. It's never smart to piss off the person who is going to bring you Tylenol, soup, and ginger ale when you're sick,” Chris comments idly.

“Oh, in that case, I love you,” Darren sighs.

“I knew you'd see it my way eventually.”

* * *

Not long after Darren stretches out on the loveseat, he's dead to the world. Chris decides it's probably best for all involved to leave him as is (even though the awkward position of his head is making Chris's neck hurt just  _looking_  at it). He manages a solid three hours of writing while half keeping an eye on Darren, marking time by his slowly increasing word count and Darren's noisy snoring (compliments of his very stuffed up nose and dried out throat). Finally, Chris reaches a good stopping point for the night and saves his progress. He glances at the clock, shocked to see how quickly the afternoon has flown by.

Chris leaves Darren sleeping and heads out to the kitchen, throwing together a quick meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for Darren and himself. He adds a can of ginger ale and bottle of Tylenol to a tray for Darren and then makes his way back to the study.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine,” Chris coaxes, shaking Darren's shoulder.

He groans and tries to bury his face in the couch pillow, but Chris is persistent. “C'mon Darren, it's after 7:00. You've pretty much slept the day away.”

Darren startles awake at that. “Wait, whazzat?” he manages in gravely voice. “I'm supposed to be at that charity event by 8:00 PM. Shit, shit shit,” he continues, sitting up too suddenly and then gripping the arm of the couch as his head spins.

“Yeah no. I already texted Ricky. He knows you’re sick and not coming tonight, so it's all good,” Chris tells him.

“But how did you...?” Darren asks, looking equal parts confused and relieved.

“I sent the text from your phone, duh.”

“...but you don't know my password?” Darren frowns. “Or are you secretly in the C.I.A. and you've been doing doing covert intelligence on me this whole time?”

“Wow, you've been watching way too much Homeland, dude. I had your thumb and that's all I needed to get into your phone,” Chris explains, rolling his eyes fondly.

“My paranoia is courtesy of 24, actually. Not Homeland,” Darren protests weakly.

“The point still stands. Not everything is controlled by the Illuminati,” Chris says.

“I can't believe I slept through you breaking into my phone,” Darren remarks.

“I'm pretty sure you could’ve slept through a nuclear bomb. I tried waking you up a few hours ago to see if you wanted to get out of your clothes and into an actual bed but you were  _not_  having it.”

“Can I have it now? Because I feel all kinds of gross,” Darren pouts.

Chris nods. “Go for it.”

“Chriiiiisss,” Darren whines, giving his best sad puppy dog eyes.

“Sorry, my mistake. Wasn't aware that your recent cold involved the loss of feeling and function in your arms. You're a regular medical marvel,” Chris scoffs.

“Is the snark necessary?” Darren asks.

“Uh yeah, if you are going to make me undress you because you claim your head cold renders you unable to do it yourself, I'm pretty much going to insist on at least a little sarcasm,” Chris huffs as he reaches out and starts to unzip Darren's fleece.

Darren sighs in disapproval, but it's sort of undercut by the way he smiles as Chris starts removing his clothing. “Fair enough. Proceed.”

Chris is quiet for a moment while he tugs the sleeves of Darren's jacket off and unwinds the scarf from Darren's neck. Underneath, Darren's wearing a pullover sweater that's damp with sweat. Chris winces.

“Gross,” Darren comments, shivering.

“Agreed. Okay, arms up,” Chris directs and pulls off the sweater. He laughs when he sees Darren's wearing a long sleeved t-shirt underneath it. “Jesus Darren, wearing enough layers yet?”

Darren gives him a look. “Do I even need to say it, Mister My-Undershirts-Have-Undershirts?”

“I just would have thought somewhere around putting on your eighth shirt, you might have started to catch on to the whole being sick thing.” Chris pulls the t-shirt over Darren's head, leaving him shivering violently and stripped down to only a sleeveless undershirt. “Okay, you're going to have to get your own jeans off. And if you are wearing long underwear underneath them, I'm going to judge the fuck out of you.”

“Then what?” Darren asks while he stands up to tug his jeans over his ass and thighs. “Since you seem to have your own alternative schedule for me tonight.”

“Then you get to take some Tylenol and decide if you want to eat your dinner here or in bed. The end.”

“If I choose bed, are you going to come with me? Or do you still have more writing to do?”

“Nah, I'm done for the night,” Chris admits.

“Netflix and chill, as the kids say these days?” Darren suggests.

“You know that means sex and not like, actually watching shows on Netflix and hanging out,” Chris points out, bemused.

“Wait, really? Um, that's kind of awkward...”

“Why?”

“I'm just rethinking a text I sent to Chuck a few weeks ago. The one where Lucy went out of town to visit family and I suggested that Chuck and Rosie should make it a Netflix and chill night,” Darren confesses, looking vaguely horrified.

“Oh my god,” Chris gasps. “Wow, awkward doesn't even begin to cover that.”

“I meant that he should watch some cartoon classics with his daughter! Sorry if I'm not up on the latest lingo, we can't all be practically fetuses like you,” he groans.

“You better hope Chuck is equally in the dark,” Chris laughs. “Alright killer, let's get you in bed,”

* * *

“How come you never get seem to get sick?” Darren grumbles a few hours later. He passed out in middle of an episode of Jessica Jones, but woke up to a coughing fit and a spiking fever. It's been nonstop misery ever since.

“I do get sick,” Chris swears. “And shh, you're meant to be closing your eyes and praying to the NyQuil gods that your medicine kicks in soon so we can both get some sleep.”

“I don't think that's a thing,” Darren says. “But seriously, I think I've seen you get like, legitimately sick twice in the entire time we've been dating and both times I was responsible for infecting you, so... What's your secret?”

“It's very complex. I'm sure you wouldn't be able to handle it,” Chris teases.

“Alright, hipster. Try me.”

“Well, it's going to sound crazy so bear with me. See, when I start to feel rundown or at the first sign of sniffles or a sore throat, I take my Vitamin C and sometimes even a Zinc lozenge, too. Then, I get my ass to bed at a reasonable time and try not to overdo it too much,” Chris explains.

“And this bizarre regimen... it actually works?” Darren gasps in mock surprise.

“Indeed it does,” Chris chuckles.

“Madness, I tell you,” Darren pretends to shake his head in disbelief.

“You should try it sometime,” Chris needles.

“Remind me in the morning? Right now, it would seem the NyQuil gods have decided to bless me with four to eight hours of sleep uninterrupted by coughing,” Darren slurs.

“Praise be.

**Author's Note:**

> [Share fic on Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/135166398740/i-really-cant-stay)
> 
> Read Previous Advent Fics on: [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Advent_Fics_by_lovetheblazer) or [Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/tagged/advent-fics-by-lovetheblazer)


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